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WAR L Y K I C 8. 




BY 



T H O M A S W A R 1) 



NEW YOKE: 

FKENCH & WHEAT, BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS, 
No. 18 Ann Street. 



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WAR LYRICS. 



%hj Sibcs of % j| cart; 

A Father's Lament on the Death of Lieut. Bryant Gray 



The Ebb. 

Pour on my head, ye pitiless floods of sorrow ! 

Crush me in mercy — if ye cannot spare ! — 
Support me, Heaven ! for another morrow 

So wild with grief were more than I could hear. 
Woe, woe is me ! I stumble as I tread, 
Wandering in darkness, for my light is dead. 

The Flood. 

O lie was manly, though of age so tender ! 

Strong in his duty, gentle in his love ; 
No foe to truth could bend him to surrender, 
No friend a waver of his faith could prove. 

Peace, w ounded heart ! not wholly dark the night, 
While Honor's star upon his breast is bright. 

The Ebb. 

Why should he wither by ignoble fever 

Who drank so oft the battle's fiery breath ? 
Had War no shaft in his remorseless quiver 
To speed his parting with a soldier's death ? 
Woe ! woe is me ! I wander as I tread, 
Lost in the darkness, for my light is dead. 



The Flood. 

Yet should his name as honored prove in story 
As though he sank beneath contending steel, 
Who fell a martyr to his country's glory, 
And shed for her the life-blood of his zeal. 
Peace, baffled heart ! I cannot curse the night 
That brings the star upon his breast to light. 

The Ebb. 

Why in his spring-time must his flower be blasted, 

Bright with the bloom that promised fruit of gold ; 
Unreaped his harvest, and his sowing wasted — 
Stopped in mid-onset like a steed controlled ? 
Woe, woe is me ! I falter as I tread, 
Groping in darkness, for my light is dead. 

The Flood. 

Bra-ve Christian knight! still for the right contending, 
Whose spurs were won even in thy youthful prime : 
Peace, aching heart ! 't is no untimely ending, 
Where fruit with flower is borne at blossom-time. 
Peace ! — for I see him in the starry calm, 
Mid hosts triumphant, bearing Victory's palm ! 

The Ebb. 

fallen house ! O scattered hopes and blighted ! 
My staff is broke — my winter's fire grown cold — 

Doomed on my ruins here to sit benighted, 
Mate to foul shadows, sorrowful and old : 
Woe, woe is me ! I can no farther tread, 
Foiled by the darkness, for my light is dead. 

The Flood. 

Heaven! let me drown these murmurs in devotion, 
Blessing the rod that keeps me to Thy way : 

1 know Thou bearest him to swift promotion, 

Granting at morn his wages for the day. 

Lo, there ! — on guard ! — his rank already won — 
Shining he stands — with his new armor on ! 



jlpeal ta % fUbaluttottary Jfatbcrs. 



Dread 'sleeping Fathers ! down the tide of ages 
Sweeps our fair ship, in safety and in pride : 

Breakers have foamed, and baffling tempests thundered 
Vainly, with your dim presence for our guide — 
Thus far with safety. 

Thanks to her oak-ribbed, double-bolted timbers ! 

In virgin mould of drainless vigor grown ; 
Thanks to her broad-bent, storm- defiant canvas ! 

Braving and using every wind that's blown, 
Typhoon or zephyr. 

Precious her freight — O more than Indies precious ! 

To distant millions hopefully consigned — 
Fear not, ye sleepers ! we will guard your treasures — 

We, your true sons, from treacherous wave and wind 
Still will defend them ! 

Ever around us have your mighty shadows 

Hovered o'er haunts once cherished with- delight ; 

Floating serene, or stirred with solemn warning, 
Rose clouds by day, and beacon fires by night, 
Ever around us. 

Now storms are on us ! and your awful columns 
Halt in their slow march down the centuries, 

Hurt for their children, and their hands uplifting, 
Dumbly beseech us with imploring eyes. 
O let us heed them ! 

Heed ! or go mourning at the dissolution ! 

States clashed, dismembered, truant from control — 
Orbs that were stars when rolled in heavenly order, 

Broke into fragments — into meteors foul — 
Hideous extinction ! 



All good expressed of polities discarded, 
All fruit of time far-culled, O Founders wise ! 

Here have you garnered in your noble charter — 
Shall it be rent before our reverent eyes ? 
Rent by your children ? 

"Not so !" with thunder as of flaming prairies 
Stern-shouting freemen send their veto round ; 

" Not so!" with earthquake hollo wness of murmur 
Answer the solemn chambers underground : 
Moan of dead heroes ! 

Safely sequestered from the crowd of nations, 
Guarded by billows tossing plumed ire, 

Yet have we tampered with the pest of danger — 
Playing like children with the treacherous fire, 
Tampering with danger. 

Wrong was the taunt — the bitter provocation, 
Worse the retort oft bandied to and fro — 

Acme of madness was the impious passion, 
Crowning its crime with parricidal blow — 
Impious madness ! 

Now by your spirit — dread heroic Fathers ! 

Boasted and best inheritance of all — 
Nothing is left to manhood but resistance : 

They that unsheathed it, by the sword must fall. 
Patience, O Fathers ! 

Never shall treason fire the holy temple ! 

Never the shrine profanely be o'erturned ! 
No ! by the builders that composed its beauty — 

No ! by their hallowed ashes there inurned ! 
So help us heaven ! 

Shoulder to shoulder, sanctified by duty, 

Smiting our kin-foe, if we must, through tears, 

Under the starlight of our ancient banner, 

Guarding the night, we'll stand till morn appears, 
Sad, but unyielding. 



And, as a sage, O Fathers ! of your order, 
By torch of lightning studied lore sublime, 

So let us profit by these stormy flashes, 
Wisely to scan the record of your prime ! 
That noble record ! 

Various in will, for right ye were united, 

Firm in the struggle, temperate at the close — 

God send us wisdom to improve the lesson ! 

Breaking the strength, to win the hearts of foes. 
O send us wisdom ! 

Ye, too, whose pulse beats with our blood, our brothers ! 

Broke from the homestead in an anger-flame — 
Leave the wild freedom of your lawless revel ! 

Home's sound restraints give dignity — not shame ! 
Shame dogs the truant ! 

Where is the brotherhood, if ye be brothers ? 

Where the hearth-memories of the olden-time ? 
Dead ? or but smouldering ? O degenerate children ! 

Wasting in broils our golden family prime. 
How changed from boyhood ! 

Come ! by the sainted memory of our Fathers — 

Come ! by their fame, our common boast and bond — 

Come ! by our future's phantom-cloud of glory 
Banking the west, veiling all spheres beyond 
In sleeping thunder ! 

Bend with a moiety of their great self -basing, 
Yield but a spark of their devoted flame, 

And we are one again as they had made us, 

And may go hence to meet them without shame — 
Noblest of conquests ! 

Folly to wrangle for divided empire, 

When the bound fasces giants could not break : 

Join hands like men ! — forbearing, yielding, aiding — 
Finish their great work for our Fathers' sake ! 
That solemn duty ! 



Heave high the walls upon their deep foundation ! 

Fill up the measure of their large design ! 
Hand down the treasure ! 'tis not ours to squander — 

We're but a part of the long shining line. 
Hand down the treasure ! 

Clustered once more and brighter for the tempest, 
All our stray Pleiads folded in their spheres, 

Kings shall stand backward as our constellation 

Flames on her pathway to the goal of years, 

Driving the darkness. 

Rolling unjarring in harmonious measure 

Wheel within wheel, God's system with the stars, 
Calmly supreme, high marvel of the nations, 
Seas her sole bounds, and laws her only bars : 
Marvel of nations ! 

Onward and onward — still forever onward, 

Through the dim forward thick with orbs sublime 

Sweeping majestical, and full of glory — 
Ultimate glory of exhausted time : 
Onward — still onward ! 



C-tmelp ©jersts. 



Strike hard the foe! with blow for blow — 
More stoutly as he meets you so — 

'Till low your valor lays him ; 
Then rise ! be great as well as just, 
Nor crush a brave man in the dust, 

But lend a hand to raise him ! 

Strike in a way to keep at bay 
The foreign meddler in our fray 

Whose envy would divide us ! 
But hold, when he would make amends — 
Content with all men to be friends, 

Who wisely stand beside us. 

Strike for the right ! though kindred fight : 
Arrayed in arms, in Nature's spite, 

One foe is like another. 
Once victor, act the hero's part, 
And nobly spare the valiant heart 

Whom Nature gave for brother ! 

Strike him whose hand would lift the brand 
Against the life of law or land, 

Though born of common mother ! 
But yours the 'vantage, stay the blow ; 
Enough to know that he lies low, 

And that he is a brother. 

Strike with a will ! though pity thrill, 
Keep striking ! 'till his faltering skill 

Betrays the hurt he smothers ; 
Great Nature pleads as there he bleeds— 
' ' His blood is yours ! forget his deeds ! 

'Tis God that made you brothers ! " 



10 



Strike then, but hear ! with broken spear 
The truant, long in arms your peer, 

Drags home with limbs that fail him 
Shout victory all ! nor stint your cheers — 
Shout, — but respect his manly tears, 

And with a welcome hail him ! 

Let blows increase that strife may cease ! 
The shafts of war are winged for peace, 

And with dove-plumage solely : 
A blessing falls on clasped hands, 
And unity the Lord commands, 

And that should make it holy. 



Soman's |iatb\ 

(for music.) 

' ' Soldiers ! hearken all, I charge you. 
I am bound on a raid through Georgia : 
More, I'll tell not my design — 
Follow your leader ! — Fall in line ! 
Chorus. — Eight on ! right on, my merry, merry men ! 
Through wood and flood," says Sherman — 
' ' But where about we may come out, 
Why time will soon determine. 

' ' What though hazard ride beside us ! 
With the hand of Heaven to guide us 
Will we smite the smiter's pride, 
And the divider will divide. 
C hones. — Eight on, etc. 

' ' Holy cause finds champions holy — 
On ! for God is with us truly : 
Breast with trust the bloody tide ! 
He will part the waves aside. 
Chorus. — Right on, etc. 

" Up and down, o'er hill and valley, 
On the alert to spread or rally — 
While you gather what you need, 
Hurt no man in word or deed ! 
Chorus. — Right on, etc. 

" Halt ! here's the Capital ! — in good nature 
We should call on the Legislature — 
How now ! — scattered all, and gone ? 
Well ! leave cards, boys, and march on ! 



12 



' ' On through fields and farmyards teeming, 
Flying herds and poultry screaming ! 
Kill and eat ! but waste no fare ! 
And let the poor man have a share. 
Chorus. — Eight on, etc. 

"Stragglers all ! come join our party ! 
Food is plenty, welcome hearty : 
Grinning darkies, out of place, 
Shoulder spades, and follow chase ! 
Chorus. — Right on, etc. 

"What a mighty swath we're mowing ! 
How our caravan is growing ! 
Strange should our far-pushing train 
Out the very State in twain ! 
Chorus. — Eight on, etc. 

" Lo ! what city spires are flashing ! 
There's the sea, too, dimly dashing ! 
Shout for joy ! the end appears — 
'Tis Savannah ! hoys — three cheers ! 
Chorus. — Eight on, etc. 

"Fort between us? halt ! unlimber ! 
Try the pith of the Eebel timber ! 
Over the ditches, banks and bars ! 
Bravo ! up with the Stripes and Stars ! - 
Choi^us. — Eight on, etc. 

' ' Now for the town ! but 'twere a pity 
To bombard so fair a city ; 
So we'll take it, boys, by storm — 
Volunteers ! — be ready ! — form ! 
Chorus. — On !" — but at night the Eebs took flight 
In the most surprising manner, 
And Sherman sent to the President 
As a Christmas gift, Savannah ! 



Wit are #ru, not gjani). 

(for music.) 

"We are one — not many!" 
Our sires in council sang, 
And the s well sublime of their Union chime 
Woke nations as it rang. 

"We are one — not many L" 
Our sires in battle spoke, 
And like a rock withstood the shock, 
And the rushing fury broke. 

"We are one — not many !" 
Our sires on ocean cried, 
When 'neath their stroke, the ribs of oak 
Went shivered down the tide. 

"We are one — not many !" 
Now sternly do we cry, 
As the dreadful ghost of a traitor host 
Looms on the Southern sky. 

"We are one — not many !" 

Still like our sires we'll sing, 
And one we'll stand by law and land 
Whatever time may bring. 



(SDnr Sanguinary Sisters. 

"Like sweet Belles jangled out of tune and harsh." 

Of all the discords born of brawling war — 

The scream of shells, the clash, the cannon peal — 

Or all that human tones can lend — the yells 

Of onset, groans of wounded, sobs of friends — 

Nought falls so rudely on the manly sense 

As woman's voice provoking to the strife, 

Or screeching vengeance in the Victor's ear. 

O fall degenerate from her vantage height ! 

Look at her as she stepped upon the earth, 

A very God-send from her Maker's hand ! 

A bride whom Heaven from every sphere had dowered 

With gifts of price to fit her for her lord. 

Morn proffered bloom, and stars the light of eyes- — 

Eyes ever liquid with the neighboring tears : 

By quiring spheres her voice was lessoned, all 

Her genial glow of bountiful emotion 

Poured from the full heart of the generous sun. 

The scarf of grace was tossed her as she passed, 

By idling cloud that summers where it may ; 

And last, on lighting, came the mountain mist 

With crowning boon, the veil of modesty — 

Purpling with glory all it sought to hide. 

So stood she at the first — so now should stand — 

The comforter, the shade, when noontide passion 

Fevers the brain — her province all to soothe — 

Heal wounds, not ope them — quench, not blow the coal 

'Twixt fiery brethren, all too prone to strife — 

Leaving to man authority, with all 

Its dreadful charge : 'Tis his to bear the brunt 

Of fight, and his to punish when 'tis done : 

Whate'er he dooms to Justice' shining sword — 

And much is merited — 'tis his to know 

How far he dare anticipate his God. 

But all her gentle weight of loveliness 

Should bear on mercy : ah her words should rise 

Fragrant with Charity — for she came last 

From the sweet fields where heavenly graces blow, 

And last should breathe the holy incense round. 



Uln Solbier's JfareiaelL 



Forget me not !" ah vain the bitter wailing 
Where all is change, and nations fade away. 

And prayers to rushing Time are unavailing. 
And mortal truth inclines not to one stay : 

Yet evermore in hopeless agony 

" Forget me not!" imploringly we cry. 



Clje Sum wo neb |€eabei\ 

He died with mercy on his lips, 
As the dread need to ask it came — 

When could he go with better grace 
That mercy from his God to claim ? 

He fell when rendering to his Lord 
The vengeance-bolt within his hand : - 

What pardon-plea could sinner make 
Like such submission to command ? 

Strong was his will to serve the state, 
And strong his arm to break the foe ; 

Most strong his manly tenderness, 
When the opposer was laid low. 

Then rest, Great Heart, in humble hope !- 
The follower of his Master's way 

Finds advocates in good men's tongues, 
And friendly Judge on trial-day. 



*a«, a Snniut 



"Peace !"— as at morn all dreamily I lay, 

Ere cavilling reason could oppose the ear, 
Down through the blushes of the budding day 

Fell a rare voice, most musically clear, 

As of an angel midway from his sphere 
Telling glad news. Four years of wrath have trod 

The rising flowers, and flushed the birds with fear- 
Let another pass so rude, O God ! — 
Again the buds peep shyly from the sod, 

And stealthy birds list for the brazen roar — 
Bid them come forth with courage ! for Thy rod 

Has stilled the tempest : say to man once more 
Sow in full surety of the far increase ! — 
Hark there again ! again ! loud and yet louder, "Peace !" 



H ft x t g . 

Out of the flying tempest-cloud 
Broke by the fury and the flashing, 
The thunder and the crashing, 

That rage and cry aloud, 
Steps Mercy, fair as promise-bow 
Smiling through tears, as bending low 
She folds the stricken source of harms 

Within her rosy arms. 
By Terror sired, no home she hath, 
Nor haunt of usage save the path 
Of ravage in the wake of Wrath — 

But there— how doth she shine ! 
A jewel in a darksome mine, 
A star by night, a Bethlehem sign — 
Indeed divine ! 



